Love Rises from the Ashes
by WizMonCruWil
Summary: What if Peeta and Katniss had Never been Reaped, and met after the war in a rebuilding District 12? Here is that story!
1. Chapter 1: Happenstance Dance

**Chapter 1: Happenstance Dance**

The gravel crunches underneath my feet as I head for the Hob. Even in the middle of the day like now, the streets are quiet. I can remember a time when the streets were bustling. But that's all gone now.

My name is Katniss Everdeen. I am 23 years old. I was never in the Hunger Games, thank God. Prim is dead.

Up until five years ago, my country of Panem was ruled by brutal dictatorship. Before the war, my homeland and last/poorest of the nation's districts, District 12, boasted roughly 8,000 people.

Only one-tenth of that escaped the Capitol firebombing that triggered the Second Rebellion. 800 survivors.

We lost about 300 more to war casualties. A few people emigrated to other districts as refugees when hostilities ended. My mother. My former best friend, Gale... I don't know of any immigrants coming here. Who would want to live around here?

All told, only about 500 people remain in District 12.

These thoughts fade away as I enter the Hob market and beeline for Greasy Sae's stall. I deposit a few squirrels on the counter, which the old woman accepts gratefully.

"Hello, Katniss! Are you coming to the dance here in the Hob tonight?"

I bite my lip and frown. "I don't do dances," I reply pointedly. Dances mean displaying social graces that I do not possess. Plus, dressing up all feminine for events has never appealed to me.

"Why not? The whole district will be there." Sae then lowers her voice when I still look unsure. "You don't have to bring a date. You won't even have to dance. Just come for a drink and watch."

I think on it. It has been a while since I have really enjoyed myself. I could just go and be a wallflower, while still getting to day I attended.

"All right. I'll come."

* * *

Despite my usual distaste for any fancy garments, I don my faded blue dress - the nicest one I own. It used to be my mother's, from her Merchant days; it was passed down to me to wear for the Hunger Games Reapings. I do up my hair in the single braid down my back, and off I go.

The place is already bustling when I get there, with Merchant and Seam alike. I stick by the walls, weaving around mingling folk and dancing couples.

"Evening, Miss Katniss." A Seam miner tips his hat to me. I answer with a shy smile and quickly move on, lest he ask me for a dance.

Across the room, I suddenly spy a tall, handsome figure leaning against the wall. Ashy blonde hair, stocky build. And those eyes... eyes as blue as a summer sky...

The Baker's youngest son. Or, I guess, he's the Baker now. He inherited the family business, rebuilt it, after his parents and two older brothers perished in the firebombings; he was one of the few Merchants to escape to the woods.

Drink in my hand, I sidle up near him, but not too close to warrant conversation. It's nice to see someone else being a wallflower, and to just observe it.

I soon turn out to be wrong.

"Nice night," he offers up.

I nod, staring straight ahead. "It is."

A moment of silence. "You know, I've never seen you at one of these before. It makes for a nice change."

"Yeah, well, Greasy Sae pressured me into it."

"She's like that," he agrees. I sense him turn to face me. "I'm Peeta. Peeta Mellark."

I reciprocate the about-face. "Katniss Everdeen."

Neither of us shakes hands. Interestingly, we both glance away.

There is a lull in the conversation. I sip my drink.

"Hey, uh... would you... like to dance?" Peeta asks tentatively.

I shake my head. "No, thank you."

We stand like this, side by side, staring out into the crowd, for most of the night. Peeta engages in small talk, which I volley back, so as not to appear rude.

Finally, someone yells out, "LAST CALL!"

The final dance of the night. I chance a glance at Peeta to see his body poised and a hopeful look in his eyes, like a puppy straining on a leash.

Smirking and rolling my eyes in amusement, I grab him by the hand and drag him into the throng. He seems both surprised and pleased as I lazily drape my arms around his neck, and let him place his hands on my hips. We slow dance.

When the song ends, Peeta suddenly asks me, "Can I walk you home?"

I freeze. In the Seam, asking to walk a girl home is more than just that action itself. It's walking a girl to her door and then sharing a kiss goodnight with her. Perhaps even more...

Yet, I find myself saying, "Sure." I let Peeta escort me out of the dispersing Hob and back towards the Seam.

In the Merchant sector and the Seam, marriages came about in two different ways. At least they did before the war. Merchants still practiced arranged marriages. Parents would pair up their children from the time they were small. In the Seam, the rule could only be described as Marriage by Expectation. Parents would observe who their children became strong friends with of the opposite. After a while, it was presumed the pair would get married on their own. Sometimes attraction and love and romance had something to do with it. Sometimes, it was simply convenience or economic security or even a deep platonic understanding.

Though I once swore that I would never marry, if I had had to marry anyone, it would have been Gale. Security and deep friendship would have come first, probably. Love later.

Even if I had wanted to marry though, I would have wanted to marry for love first.

We now have reached my door. Peeta and I turn to face each other. "Thanks for walking me home," I mumble.

Peeta smiles. I like his smile. "You're welcome. Well... good night."

He holds out his hand for me to shake it. I grasp it as if to do so, but instead, I pull him flush against me. Dragging his neck down, I press his lips to mine.

I am fulfilling the code. This is the Seam tradition, the Seam way. Besides, he's been such a gentleman tonight. A simple, chaste kiss is what he deserves.

Except it isn't chaste. I forget myself and my mouth ravages his. But I can't seem to help it. He tastes so good...

Peeta pulls out of the kiss abruptly. He looks stunned, and even more than this, confused.

I suddenly realize my error. My face flushing red with embarrassment, I squeak out, "Good night," before fleeing inside my door.


	2. Chapter 2: Proper Date

**Chapter 2: Proper Date**

Guilt gnaws away at me throughout my hunt next morning. So much so, that I head right for Mellark bakery. I've never traded there since the war, but it seems like a good excuse to try and see him.

Peeta is at the front counter when I enter; there are thankfully no other customers. "What are you doing here?" He asks.

"To trade," I reply, dumping my game bag before him. "And to apologize."

Peeta accepts the squirrels and then reaches for some bread in exchange. I shake my head.

"No need for that. All I want in exchange is the chance to take you on a proper date. There was a miscommunication last night. I assumed you knew all the dating codes and traditions of the Seam and I forced them on you. I'm sorry. So I want to make it up to you. There's another dance at the Hob this Saturday. You can pick me up at seven."

I leave without another word, barely hearing Peeta's agreement to the date as I move out the door.

* * *

That Saturday night, I dress in a simple gray tunic and matching pants. When Peeta comes to collect me, he is clad in a handsome button-down and slacks.

We have a great time. On this date, I readily dance with Peeta on each and every song. Sometimes, I eagerly pull him onto the floor.

Peeta graciously walks me home afterwards. At my door, I hold out my hand to shake his. Laughing as though this is an old joke between us, Peeta is now the one who takes my hand and pulls me flush against him. But unlike me, he pauses, cradling my face in his hands, his thumbs caressing my cheekbones.

"Can I kiss you?"

I gulp. " _May_ I?" I whisper. If there's one thing Mother taught me, it's proper grammar. Then: "Yes." Tilting my face up towards his, I permit him to kiss me.

The kiss becomes heated very quickly. My mouth molds into compliance against Peeta's, and I part my lips for him. His tongue slithers in between the split with ease, massaging my own.

Within moments, we are staggering into my house, tearing at each other's clothes. I feel the mattress sink beneath my weight as I fall backwards onto it, taking Peeta with me. He deftly removes my pants, then my pantyhose tights. I wrap my bare thighs around his torso and squeeze, clasping him to me as his member swiftly enters my vagina.

"Hmmm!" I let out a choked squeak in the back of my throat. It hurts at first, just as I heard it would be. But it soon gives way to pleasure, and Peeta quickly begins thrusting into me. I moan in perfect harmony:

"Huhhh... uhhhhh... UHHH! UHHH!" The bed shakes with our movements.

At last, I orgasm, flailing in total bliss. Peeta empties into me soon after, and we fall asleep in each other's naked embrace.


	3. Chapter 3: You Love Me? OK

**Chapter 3: You Love Me? OK**

When the sun pulls me out of sleep Sunday morning, I find my bed empty. Peeta is gone. Still, I shrink away from the indentation where his body lay, his lingering smell, as if he were still in my bed.

I head into town without hunting. I feel as though I have once again made a terrible mistake when it comes to Peeta. I take my troubles to Greasy Sae.

"I took him to bed last night, Sae. And then this morning, he was gone! Did he just fuck me to forgive me?"

Sae shakes her head. "Katniss, that boy would not just take you as a fling! Not when he's carried a torch for you since you were children!"

I stare. "Peeta... loves me?" She nods.

I run from the Hob, knowing where I have to go. Where I have to be. "Thanks, Sae!"

* * *

I approach Mellark Bakery from the rear loading dock. My fist is still rapping on the back door when it opens.

"There's something I need to tell you!" I hear my own voice oddly echo until I realize Peeta spoke at the exact same time. The baker now hands me a letter.

"I was just on my way to your house to give you this."

I carefully take the envelope and open it. "Dear Katniss:" As I go line by line, my pupils widen in shock as Peeta confesses that he has been in love with me since we were five years old. How he saw me the first day of school in a red dress and my hair in two braids instead of one. At the end, he boldly asks me for my hand in marriage.

My eyes fill with tears. My bottom lip quivers. I raise my gaze to meet his. "You love me?" I croak out through my tight throat.

Peeta nods.

I take a deep, shuddering breath. I make the leap. "OK."

I throw my arms around his neck and kiss his lips. I settle into his embrace before staggering him back into the bakery, pushing him against the wall. Against his mouth, I hoarsely whisper:

"If you're gonna marry me, you can't ever tell me what to do."

I draw my lips sensuously away from his to meet his stunned gaze. I continue seriously, diplomatically, laying out the terms for this proposed marriage.

"I can hunt whenever I want. My mother can visit. I'll sleep with you; share a bed. Help in the bakery."

Peeta finally finds his voice. "Children?"

A pause. When I was younger, I had vowed to never become a mother, lest I provide tributes for the arenas. But now that the Hunger Games are gone...

I smile. "I'll think about it." We kiss again, gazing into each other's eyes. Another silence. "Well? Are you gonna ask me or not?"

Peeta blinks, then his gaze grows passionate. "Will you marry me, Katniss Everdeen?"

I smile softly. "Of course," I murmur. And I kiss my husband-to-be once again.


End file.
